


Get your shit together

by turnupfortrash



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom Eddie, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Music used to serve the plot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Service Submission, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Sub Richie Tozier, Sugar Daddy, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnupfortrash/pseuds/turnupfortrash
Summary: Richie decides to get his life together. His agent recommends a life coach.E. Kaspbrak’s Life Coaching Services: Get your shit togetherGetting his life together might be harder than he thoughtalternatively summarized as "richie is a sad gay disaster desperately trying to get his shit together"
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Get your shit together

**Author's Note:**

> Reddie has taken over my life, and I'm not even mad about it.  
also 90% of my writing has some kind of basis in the music I listen to so I'm including links to the songs. There's also a playlist that will be used in this fic and it does exist in real life so I may share when the fic is completed.  
On that note, the fic isn't complete yet however due to COVID19 I'm off work for at least the next few weeks if not longer depending on how things play out in my country sooooo... plenty of time to write theoretically? 
> 
> Also here's the link  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFtgmTrxoTY

_ I don't know who this person is _

_ But I've seen his face before _

_ A face I don't want to have to face _

_ I don't think I like me anymore _

***

A life coach. His agent had thrown it out so arbitrarily but Richie can’t get it out of his head. You see, Richie’s been stuck in this rut for many years and he’s finally at a point where he wonders why he bothers. Why does he bother with the shows when he never writes his own material? Why does he bother dating when he never lets it go anywhere? Why does he bother even trying anymore? But a life coach, a life coach may be just what Richie needs to kick his butt into gear. Someone to yell at him, like the British soccer coach from _ She’s the man _. Maybe he could even find one that’s actually British. Richie can’t help but wonder if they would help him work on his British butler voice. 

Pulling his laptop over to the couch, Richie makes himself comfortable. Legs sprawled up on the coffee table and his overly indulgent fuzzy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He opens up google and types it in. _ Life Coach Beverly Hills _ . The first few links were almost enough to make Richie give up on it. _ Hypnosis _ ? Does that even work, Richie had always thought it was purely a movie thing. _ Shine bright with Sunshine and Willow _? Yeah, that doesn’t seem likely. And that one? That looks like some kind of religious cult. Richie sighs, rubbing a hand absently over his face.

_ E. Kaspbrak’s Life Coaching Services: Get your shit together _

Get your shit together, Richie needs to get his shit together. He clicks the link. The description is brief but informative, explaining that there’s an evaluation process and then a recommendation of services. There’s also an online application. Richie fills it out quickly before he has a chance to overthink this. He clicks submit. It’s done, and Richie lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

***

He got an email confirmation informing him of the next steps. The business will contact him by phone to discuss what he wants from their services and then he’ll be assigned to one of the coaches. Okay, he can do this, he can talk to a stranger who will judge his life on the phone. This is fine. Richie can’t help but think of the dog meme with the house on fire. This is very much not okay. Richie takes a long steady breath, trying to settle his racing heart. Let’s break this down, it’s about 7:00 PM on a Friday night, no one should still be at work right now. Everyone peace’s out early on a Friday, it’s like standard practice. He shouldn’t have to deal with the phone call until Monday morning. Richie will have to make sure he’s up at a decent hour, this time between tours tends to wreak havoc on his sleeping schedule. He starts pacing, walking back and forth in front of his bar. Some habits are harder to break. The bar is still there, built into the wall of his fancy condo, but it stands empty. Some days, the harder days, he thinks about taking an ax to it. Going full home renovation on it and just knocking it down. 

He almost doesn’t notice his phone buzzing on his desk, shaking and moving across his desk as it continues to go off. Picking it up, Richie sees the caller ID.

_ E. Kaspbrak LCS. _

Richie almost drops the phone in his rush to pick it up, his voice squeaks. “Hi?”

“Hello, may I speak to Richard Tozier?” A man’s voice asks.

“Yeah, uh. This is...he. This is Richie.” 

“Hello Richie, this is Eddie Kaspbrak from the Life Coaching Services. I’ve received your application and was wondering if you were available to chat about what you’re hoping to get out of this. Do you have a moment now, or would another time be better?”

“Now’s okay.” Richie takes a deep breath, the words spilling out faster than he can control. “Yeah, I can talk now. No problem, no siree.” 

Richie hears a noise like the other man is trying to smother a laugh. “Listen, Richie, I understand this can be an overwhelming thing to discuss. I’m just trying to get an idea about what you’re hoping to get out of our services and then I’ll use that to match you up to the coach I think would best fit your needs. There’s no rush for that information though, so just take a breath and go at your own pace.”

Richie breathes in deeply, in for a five-count and then out for the same. A trick his old therapist taught him before he drove her crazy enough she gave him a referral Richie never took. 

“Tell me a little about yourself, Richie. What do you like to do?” 

“Well, I’m a comedian. So I like to make people laugh.” 

“Mhm, and what else?” Richie can hear a faint scratching noise, like Eddie’s taking notes 

What else? What else does Richie do? Now that he doesn’t drink his life mostly revolves around tours and sleeping. Wash, rinse, repeat. 

Richie laughs nervously, “That’s about it. I used to do back to back tours and uh… a lot of drinking.”

“Used to?” the scratching noise stops and Richie takes another deep breath before continuing. 

“Yeah, I’m about 90 days sober. As of Sunday, I think?” Richie sighs, fingers picking at the nonexistent fuzz on his pants. “And I’m about two months into a six-month break between tours. I’m supposed to be writing my next show and it’s… harder than I remember.”

The scratching starts up again, Richie is half sure he’s going to start twitching at any point now if Eddie doesn’t start talking soon. Luckily he doesn’t have to wait very long.

“Okay Richie, I think I’m getting an idea of what you’re looking for and who to assign to your case. Would you be willing to meet in person sometime next week with the assigned coach?” 

Next week. Two days from now. Yeah, that’s fine, totally fine. “Yeah sure that sounds great, should I meet them somewhere or will they come to me?”

“Is it okay if they come to you? That tends to work best in cases like yours.” Eddie says it so nonchalantly that Richie almost doesn’t hear it. 

_ Cases like yours _ . _ Cases like YOURS _. Fuck. Fuck, Fuck, Fuckity Fuck. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course, that’s totally fine. I’m free all week” Like the first shit after all you can eat hot wings night, the words just spill out of him uncontrollably. 

“That’s great, Richie. Does Monday at 3:00 PM sound okay to you?”

“Monday at three sounds just dandy to me good sir!” Richie slaps a hand across his face when he finds himself using the British Butler voice. 

“Great! Well, it was great talking to you, Richie. Thanks for being so accommodating. I’ll see you Monday then, goodbye!” 

Richie mumbles a bye and Eddie hangs up. His phone gets tossed on the couch, Richie grabs a pillow and pulls it over his face before starting to scream. _ What the fuck is he even doing? _ Richie is back to pacing, hands running through his hair when he realizes something. 

_ I’ll see you Monday _. Eddie will see him Monday, not some nameless employee. Great. Apparently Richie is so fucked up he ends up on the boss' caseload. Throwing the pillow he still held behind him, Richie absently hears the crash as he flops onto his bed. 

“Otis Gray, take me away,” Richie says into his pillow as he fumbles with his phone to pull up the podcast on Spotify. The only thing to help him sleep now that he no longer chugs bottles of whiskey before bed. 

***

Monday afternoon comes quicker than Richie would like. He’s once again pacing in front of his bar and trying his best not to look the part of a neurotic wreck. Richie had showered this morning, trying desperately to tame his curls, and he found some clothes that were actually clean. All this preparation, both mental and physical, did nothing to prepare him for the actual meeting. Richie can see this playing out one of two ways, either the guy will take one look at Richie and declare him a lost cause. Or, he’ll tell Richie that there’s nothing wrong with him and that he’s just overreacting. Neither of the options makes Richie feel particularly good about himself, sadly. 

At five minutes to three, Richie finds himself standing in front of the door. The knock startles him even though he’s expecting it. He yanks the door open.

“Hi.” Richie stares at him, at a loss for words. The man standing in front of him is, simply put, gorgeous. He’s short, a heck of a lot shorter than Richie, but it just makes Richie want to pull him in closer. His hair is artfully styled with a little swoop to the side and the fact that he has all the buttons done up tight on his stupid polo shirt honestly makes Richie want to cry. 

“Hi, you must be Richie.” He sticks a hand out to greet Richie. “I’m Eddie, we spoke on the phone last week.” 

Richie is still staring at this point but shakes the hand offered to him on autopilot. He shakes his head a little, trying to clear the fog. “Hi, yeah, come in.” 

Richie steps aside and Eddie enters after him, looking around briefly. Richie makes his way over to the kitchen table and pulls a seat out for Eddie. Not sure where this gentlemanly behaviour is coming from but Richie’s not going to think about it too much. He pulls his own seat out, again not thinking about the fact that he chose the one next to Eddie instead of across from him.

“So, I thought today we could go over the different services we can offer that I think would be helpful to you. And then we can figure out a schedule and work out the details of payment. Sound good?” Eddie says with a smile, pulling some papers out of the bag he brought with him. 

“Yeah, that sounds great.” Richie drums on the table absently, trying his hardest to stare only at the papers being spread out on the table. 

Eddie goes over the different options but in the end, Richie settles on getting help with his work. His writing process has been dragging and there’s, unfortunately, an actual deadline with it. Eddie reassures him that this kind of thing is pretty typical for their business.

“You would be surprised at the number of people who feel the pressure of a deadline and are suddenly unable to produce anything.” Eddie gives him a sly grin, “And the number of people who just expect me to do their job for them, but I don't think we’re going to have that problem are we?” 

“I dunno, Eds, are you particularly funny?” Richie leans in close with a matching grin. 

“No.” Eddie has a perfect blank stare, “And that’s not my name.” 

Richie can’t help but laugh, he throws his head back and snorts loudly. When he looks back again, Eddie is smiling at him. 

“So I'll see you again tomorrow, same time?” Eddie starts packing his papers away, all the forms signed and filled out. 

“You bet, Eds my man.” Richie stands with him, ready to walk him to the door. “I hope you’re prepared for a lot of _ your mom _ jokes, they’re kind of my bread and butter.”

Eddie snorts, “What are you, fifteen?”

“Well if I’m fifteen what does that say about your mother. Nothing good that’s for sure, the neighbourhood watch is going to be circling her house after the address gets posted on pedophilesRus.com .” Richie opens the door for Eddie, standing with it open as Eddie stands in the hallway.

“Ephebophile.”

“Gesundheit.” 

Eddie laughs, his grin lighting up his face in ways that Richie is totally not going to think about constantly until he sees it again. “No, idiot. If you were fifteen and my mother… it would be ephebophile. That’s for teenagers or whatever.”

“I don’t know how the fuck you know that, but I feel like I should shut my door now.” Richie grins as he starts slowly closing his door. “I’ll have you know I feel dirty right now, so thanks for that.”

Eddie’s laughing even as he’s walking away. He waves over his shoulder. “Goodbye Richie, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye.” Richie watches him get into the elevator. Eddie smiles at him and waves briefly again as the elevator door closes. 

Richie closes the door the rest of the way. He leans against the closed door and honestly, Richie really does feel like he’s fifteen, except he’s in some cheesy rom-com and this was their meet-cute.

_ Fuck. _

**Author's Note:**

> 10/10 recommend the Sleepy podcast by Otis Gray. That dude can knock me the fuck out most nights when my insomnia is fucking my life up


End file.
